


Moondrunk

by bledsins



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/M, Please read disclaimer, Weekly Updates, Werewolf Mates, Werewolves, all that's left is names and some backgrounds, borderline original work, characters are different, completely transformative fiction, loosely based on source material, slowbuild, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-24 18:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30076359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bledsins/pseuds/bledsins
Summary: Wolves.They exist among us.They can't be identified by looks or personality.They could be your best friend or your worst enemy; if they don't want you to know, you won't.The attacks are real.The fear is real.The prejudice is real.But are they really so different?PLEASE READ DISCLAIMER
Relationships: Female Deputy | Judge/John Seed, John Seed/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	1. Disclaimer

This is not your usual fanfiction.

While some of the characters may have the same names and some of the same backstory, there is no resemblance to the plot of Far Cry 5.  
This work came about after months of playing with the werewolf genre _inside_ the bounds of the game world and the drive to create something completely new, without sacrificing the love and knowledge I have as a writer for the characters.

For all intents and purposes, this is a work of _original fiction_ that is heavily inspired by the source material and as such, is also published on Wattpad first. **The version here runs a week behind that one** and if you are interested in reading it, please consider finding it over there (my pen name, bledsins, is the same there as here).

John Seed is John Duncan, still a hotshot lawyer from Atlanta, still a recovering addict, but not quite as much of a bastard. His brothers do not exist in this story.

The Deputy, John's best friend, and almost all of the cast are OC's. Adelaide is still Adelaide.

It's still Montana, but not Hope County and not Fall's End, though the scenery is heavily inspired by the Holland Valley.

There is no Collapse.

If you're still with me, thank you. I promise to try my hardest to give you something interesting and, hopefully, a little different from normal. 


	2. I

"I assure you Mrs. Hayridge, Mr. Proctor left --" the sentence was cut off before he could finish, leaving John to bite his tongue and wear his most patient expression as the old harridan started on down another rant.

The cloying scent of sickly sweet perfume clung to the inside of his nostrils and felt like it was starting to invade his brain; the faint throb of a headache just beginning to drive the tip of an icepick into his left temple. He'd already started to lose focus on what the widow was talking about, merely picking up words here and there. Really, he was waiting for her to ask a question. Or pause for breath. Whichever came first. Neither happened before the large, antique grandfather clock in the reception of the equally antique office tolled five. 

Margaret Hayridge didn't hear it. She was too busy talking.

That was until finally - _finally_ \- she stopped and John took advantage of the break. "Mrs. Hayridge," he began, a soft smile on his lips that he made sure reached his eyes; even if the woman was busy giving the nautical star tattoo on the back of his right hand a dirty look. "Margaret." A sharp sound, commanding. That got her attention. "May I call you Margaret?" Soft, warm, inviting -- all matched up with an equally warm smile that welcomed you to trust him. And trust him she did, the faintest blush on her cheeks visible under the layers of makeup thick enough you could scrape it off with a pallet knife.

"Of course Mr.Duncan, you don't need to ask."

He flashed her a smile; a glimpse of straight, brilliant white teeth that held no true hint of warmth or friendliness. But that didn't matter, she believed it did, and that was all he cared about. "Margaret, David Proctor was an _incredible_ record keeper, he was especially diligent in handling your, and your late husband's, affairs. I know his loss is a difficult thing, especially when you've known him for so lo --"

"As long as we've been here. A good forty years!" She beamed, interrupting and preparing to go on another meandering tale.

_However did the man cope?_

"And that is an amazing feat." John couldn't let her go off another verbal wander down memory lane, she'd already been in his office for two hours and had greatly outstayed her welcome. "But I promise you, he's left me more than enough to pick up where he left off without missing a step. Your estate is in safe hands, you just have to trust me."

"Well, David _did_ say you come with the best recommendations he'd ever seen. I've never seen him so impressed and believe me he wasn't a man that was easily impressed. Let me tell you, once that man saw…"

And that was when John tuned her out again, the smile on his face fading into appeasement as he let his mind wander to the small Italian takeout place he'd planned to swing by on his way home. It was only when she finally said words that equated to 'I trust you' that he snapped back to the present and gave her another bright, winning smile. 

"Wonderful." He closed the file in front of him with an air of finality and slipped it inside the box. That too was closed, the plastic lock clicking into place sounding loud in the very quiet room now that Mrs. Heyridge had stopped talking. "If you could just speak to my aide before you leave to make sure that all your details are correct -- especially after your recent move across town." He rose from his seat, striding around the desk while the heavily perfumed woman gathered her purse from the floor and cane from where it was propped. 

There was another almost visible blush as she noticed the offered hand to help her from her seat, one she took almost bashfully. No dirty looks at the tattoos this time around. John merely doubled down on the warmth in his smile as he helped her up. The woman, five foot on a good day, barely reached his shoulder and he made sure to step back so she didn't have to crane her neck to look up at him as she launched into another babble, this time about how he was a gentleman and reminded her of her husband.

John, keeping a light, reassuring touch on her back as he led her to the door, made sure to make all the right noises until she crossed the threshold. Then it was time to wait for another break -- this time, thankfully, it arrived much sooner. "It has been an absolute pleasure to finally speak to you in the flesh, Margaret. Please, speak to my aide Levi on your way out and do keep safe on your journey home. If there's _anything_ we can help you with, don't hesitate to be in touch."

He made sure to listen to her final goodbyes before she turned her focus to the man behind the desk. The smile had dropped as soon as her back turned to him, eyes rolling in his skull at Levi before the door closed and the lock slid into place -- to make sure he wasn't disturbed again.

A ragged sigh forced its way from his lips as his forehead hit the polished mahogany door with a dull _thunk_. All the tension that had built while listening to the widow babble like a brook for two hours bled from his lean frame and he sagged against the woodwork, propped up only by his forehead until he could build up the energy to move again. It had been necessary. The Hayridge estate, the properties and the money tied up in everything they owned, covered almost half the town. Their wealth was the most important asset that the office of Proctor and Klein had on their books. It was imperative that, now that neither of the founders were around, it remained firmly in place. That meant it had been down to John. 

But really, that wasn't what had wound him up like a coiled spring. It was Margaret Hayridge herself. Everything about the woman assaulted the senses - but especially her perfume. It lingered in the air even now she'd left and that was the only thing that made John move from his spot by the door. He breezed through the office fast enough to cause a few loose papers to flutter on his desk and slid up the old sash window so the chill November air could flood the room. That first lungful felt like a blessing, skin prickling as the stagnant air, tainted with perfume, swapped out with the fresh and clean air he'd fallen in love with when he first visited what would become his home. 

He flopped down into his high-backed chair once he was satiated on clean air, not noticing the low hum of the heating unit that had responded to the sudden rush of cold which flooded the room. His eyes traced a lazy trail across the papers on his desk before an equally lazy hand lifted to stack them into a haphazard pile, then the hand found the bridge of his nose and pinched. The headache was becoming a migraine. Caused by Mrs. Hayridge's meandering stories, the stagnant air and perfume, and the fact he had started to notice his patience thinning as time went. The fact he had skipped lunch was a factor too, but it was semantics, the headache was there and relentless. 

So relentless that he almost missed the soft knock on the door. Not taking his fingers off his nose, eyes still squeezed shut, John huffed out a sigh before he gave the all-clear for Levi to enter. As soft as the knock was the sound of the key in the lock and the latch sliding back.

A single eye cracked at the sight of his right-hand man, an eye which quickly zeroed in on the steaming mug in his hand that he held out as he approached. "Levi, you are a saint and a lifesaver." The coffee was gratefully received and John didn't watch as the man headed to the switch on one side of the room to turn the heater off.

The taste of the coffee, dark and bitter, danced on his tongue and an involuntary groan left his lips. Missing lunch meant he'd missed his caffeine hit too. Only after that first mouthful did he watch Levi as he sunk into the chair that Mrs. Hayridge had last occupied.

"It's going to take a day of airing out to get rid of her perfume." Levi began, nose wrinkling. "Can she not smell how strong it is?" 

John sighed and took another mouthful. "It's common with older women. Lack of mobility means they can't bathe as often. They're often incontinent to a degree too. The perfume is to mask the smell." It's not stated as anything other than facts, face neutral even with a loose shrug of his shoulder.

Levi nodded. "Well, it certainly works. Masks everything else too." He eyed his boss then, nursing the cup as if it was the most precious thing in the world. "Get yourself some food and go home, boss. I can lock up." 

"No, you know I have a lot to do before tomorrow evening."

"I know, but you know you can't function with a migraine. Take your laptop and work from home if you must." He doesn't flinch, even when John gives him a withering glance. "Besides, it's really only those applications you need to read over and get back to me on who we're gonna see. If any. There's a couple that look promising, I think."

"Oh? Can I get a hint of who you're leaning towards?"

"Nope."

The smug grin on Levi's face had John's eyes rolling. "Alright, I'll look through. We'll compare notes tomorrow." 

"Tomorrow? You're coming in?"

"Only for the morning, no clients. Don't let me stay past noon. But I _am_ staying late tonight." It was an insistence that couldn’t be argued against, the warning clear in John’s grim expression.

"Okay boss." 

John didn't say anything as Levi stood to head back out to his desk to gather his things to leave. It was only when the man's hand touched the handle did he speak up. "And Levi?" His face was grave when he'd got his attention again. "Don't let your guard down. We don't know this place yet. I don't want to lose you this moon because we got complacent."

There's a long pause before Levi nods once. "Yes, boss." And then he was gone, and John was left alone with his cooling coffee, his mountain of paperwork, and his own thoughts.


	3. II

It had been too late the previous night for John to pick up the Italian he'd been craving that day so he'd had to settle for a late-night pizza pickup which he didn’t touch beyond the first slice. The box now sat on the corner of his desk in the old brown office of Proctor and Klein, the lid half-open. Despite the smell of the pepperoni and cheese that leaked from it, John barely touched it. Instead, it was Levi that had zapped it in the microwave that made up one-third of the small office kitchen (the others being a sink and a very small fridge). 

For all his efforts in trying to concentrate on the applications on his laptop screen while listening to the low volume tunes playing from the small Bluetooth speaker sat nearby, all John could hear was the sound of his aide chewing. He'd eyed the top of unruly, fuzzy mop atop Levi's head, the nerve twitching under one eye at the constant mastication coming from the man's jaw.  _ Like a cow chewing the cud.  _ But he'd remained silent.

There was only so much he could take. It wasn't Levi's fault, but between his lack of appetite and the lack of sleep he'd gotten the previous night, he was wound like a rubber band. He rolled his shoulders as he clicked out of the résumé he'd tried to read four times already and let out an unamused huff.

"You said there was a couple in here worth looking at, but so far I've seen nothing inspiring." His tone held nothing but disinterest, tiredness creeping in. He leaned back in his chair which caused it to creak as if it'd not been used for years. John's eyes hadn't moved from the folder he'd been going through but he wasn't really seeing anymore, his mind wandering.

Levi, mid-chew and slack-jawed, looked up and blinked at his boss for a moment before he finished his mouthful and straightened up from where he'd hunched over a small stack of faded yellow papers. "Uh...look for the names Campbell, Stroud, and...and...one moment." He diverted his attention to his own laptop screen, finding the same folder that John was looking at and scrolling the names. "Ortiz. Those three." 

With a raised brow over given over now steepled fingers, John let his attention linger on his assistant for a few seconds, just enough for the man to give him a slightly nervous smile and quickly return to the papers he was sorting through. Only then did he look back at the screen, pulling up the three names suggested.

"Campbell is a hard pass," he begins dismissively, "I know of him, he's not looking for a paralegal job, he'll want his name on the door within six months." And John wasn't looking for a partner to put their name on the door, not just yet. He'd agreed to keep the current name, but someone like Steven Campbell would be looking for his name in gold letters on the front of the building.

"You know him?"

Levi's voice pulled his gaze and John nodded. "Went to school with him. Was a junior in my senior year and repeatedly tried to punch above his weight class no matter how many times or how badly he was slapped back. If nothing else, I'll admit the man has balls, but he's not the kind of bastard I want working for me."

All Levi could do was nod. He knew how heated John could get, he didn't want that in stereo.

"Stroud seems promising, a bit young. Attended -- " he cuts himself off with a mildly disgusted noise. " _ John Marshall _ . Fuck me, Levi, you could have warned me."

"Sorry boss." Though he wasn't entirely sure what he was apologizing for.

"Don't be, it's not like you know their reputation." He heaved a sigh, continuing to read with a critical eye. "Other than that, I see no problems with him, he seems competent enough. I do wonder what brings him to Montana from Georgia though. Call him for an interview anyway." For all John knew, it was the same thing that brought him up, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

The last name Levi had mentioned was Ortiz and John pulled it up with a passive expression, not expecting much given the previous candidates. The surprise that flickered on his face must've been noticeable, because Levi paused, hand halfway into the pizza box.

"Boss?"

"Ortiz has an... interesting work history, doesn't she?"

"She does. I thought that would pique your interest."

"You know me well. Color me curious."

A comfortable silence fell as John read through the résumé on the screen and Levi munched on his new slice of pizza. It was only interrupted by John finally sitting up straight and closing his laptop with a glance at the clock.

"Call Marshall too, she might be interested in a secretarial position, to give you a few days off a week."

"Yes, boss. You going?"

"As planned, Levi."

A nod from Levi as he stood to untangle his paperwork from John's while he watched his boss through cautious glances before he too, noticed the time. Nearly noon. No wonder John seemed to be in a rush.

The laptop slipped into his briefcase alongside the scattering of loose papers and the thick, woolen, knee-length coat pulled off the back of his chair and onto his shoulders in one smooth motion.

"Remember what I said yesterday Levi," John began, gathering his belongings and heading towards the door. "We don't know this area, keep your wits about you and make sure you have something to defend yourself with if you need to go out. I'll lock the door on my way out."

All Levi could do was nod. "Keep safe, John."

Moments later, John had finished withdrawing the old brass key from the deadlock on the front door. He turns on his heel, depositing the keys into his pocket as he goes, not quite looking where he's going.

And walks straight into a dark-haired woman, who all but face plants onto his chest after the flat soles of her pumps lose purchase on the icy sidewalk.

******

Late.

So very very late.

Tali had meant to be at the office of Proctor and Klein well over an hour ago. Not because she had an appointment, but because she knew they closed at noon. And now it was nearly twelve and it would be her luck that she got there just as they closed the front doors.  _ Should have called in, _ she scolded herself as her beat-up old car rattled its way down the main street towards the turn,  _ but no, you just  _ **_had_ ** _ to think showing up would make a good impression. _

"More make yourself look like a fool." She muttered under her breath as she drummed her fingers on the wheel impatiently while she waited for the red light to turn green. The rattly old Ford made a noise of protest as she pulled away on amber, hauling the front end around with a grunt made difficult since the power steering died earlier in the summer alongside the AC and heating unit. Winter, she decided, was going to be torture. 

She needed a new car, and to get a new car she needed a new job, but to get the new job she needed her current car to survive long enough to get her first check. That was if she got the job in the first place. And if she didn't get to the office in time she would absolutely never get that job. 

She breathed a sigh of relief when the building came into view, still with a fancy black truck parked outside. A sigh of relief was cut short when she saw the front door open and someone step out. 

"Shit. Shitshitshit." Curses rolled off her tongue and she haphazardly pulled into a nearby spot, half up the curb but not caring as she grabbed her purse and bolted out the door without bothering to lock the door. There was nothing worth stealing inside and the heap was a junker anyway.

Her calls for the man to wait up either went unheard or ignored as she ran as fast as her uncomfortable shoes would carry her but her hope startled to dwindle as he turned, not seeing her. 

She tried putting on the brakes, chest heaving from the very sudden sprint in short heels she'd had to undertake, but the soles of her shoes were completely flat and the sidewalk wasn't gritted yet, there was no purchase to help her slow as she found the one patch of black ice. Something she realized too late.

With a yelp she stumbled forward, hands failing to brace herself as she collided, face first, into the solid chest of the man whose attention she was trying to get.  _ Mission accomplished.  _

She's cursing and apologizing before she's even fully removed herself from him, the feeling of his hands on her shoulders and the sound of his own concerned apology not quite registering until he pulled her away and she looked up at him.

Then all words died.

Eyes so blue she could drown in them stared back at her with such an intensity that the blush from embarrassment for colliding with him turned into something completely different. It was like he was staring into her soul. For a moment, she could swear they dilated so that that brilliant blue was a mere halo around black holes, but then that moment was gone and he blinked and his stunned silence was replaced by an easy smile that she couldn't help but mirror.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention." 

His voice was as smooth as his black silk shirt and it took Tali a few seconds before she realized he was expecting a response. Only then did she remember the prior events and take a step back so she could look at him properly.  _ Grandma always said something about tall, dark, and handsome strangers.  _

"Clearly you weren't, I was yelling at you to wait." Still out of breath, she tried to put forward her best impression of indignation but it was a struggle when those eyes were so damn distracting.

"Well, you have my attention now, what can I do for you Ms…?"

"Ortiz."

"Ah, one of our potential recruits. I've just read your résumé." He spoke so easily, calm and charming, and it made the cogs in Tali's head turn as if they were gummed up with molasses.  _ Oh shit. _ He must've been the one she was applying to work under. 

Of course he was. She should have known that by looking at him. Who other than a high-powered, big-city lawyer looked like  _ that _ in backwater Stonebridge. Perfectly slicked back hair, perfectly trimmed and oiled beard. Not even old Proctor looked as well put together as the man in front of her. "Mr. Duncan I presume?" That was the name that she was told to apply to.

He dipped his head once in acknowledgment and gave her an easy smile that caused a long-neglected butterfly to flutter in her gut. That was new.

"I'm not too late to change my phone number on my application am I? Something came up and I had to switch contracts."

He blinked at her for a moment before he shook his head and removed a small bundle of keys from his pocket to unlock the door he'd just locked.

"You're lucky, don't tell anyone, but you were going to get a call back this afternoon." He shot her a look over his shoulder, giving her a wink that caused a blush to bloom across her cheeks that he didn't get to see when he turned to look at the door, step inside, and hold it open for her. "Go straight in the door up the stairs, my aide Levi will be more than willing to help you. Now I really should be going, I'm late for an appointment."

She caught his arm as he went to leave and his head snapped around so fast she flinched and withdrew her touch. "Thank you, Mr. Duncan."

Another one of those smiles and again, she would have sworn blind that she saw those pupils dilate. "See you in a few days, Ms. Ortiz."


	4. III

The sound of some air-headed pop track, turning on mid-lyric, jarred John awake. A single eye fixed the clock with a glare before an unhappy grunt escaped him and he hauled himself out from under the covers onto the edge of the bed. The tinny radio alarm was allowed to stay on as he padded with lazy footsteps towards the shower. 

Water hot enough to almost scald caused little more than a sigh as it hit his shoulders and he only half-listened as the international news report followed the last few bars of the radio jingle. More of the same. Wars, trade deals, protests in the Capitol. Same old same old. When the reporter moved on to celebrity gossip, he stuck his head under the torrent to drown it out, only surfacing when he was sure it had finished.

He turned the shower off with a squeak of the tap and made a mental note to get that checked and padded to the sink, shaking the water out of his hair.

_ " - and with this month's full moon out of the way..." _ began the reporter and John, mouth full of brush and toothpaste, tuned back in, focusing on his own reflection.  _ "The death toll has risen in Montana for the sixth month in a row, with hospitals reporting a twenty percent increase in bites and other bodily injuries since July. Looks like we'll be seeing more of our furred friends -"  _ implied air quotes that cause John's eyes to roll,  _ "in the coming months." _

The bulletin ended and John spat out the last gargle of mouthwash. Whatever music had come on was turned off as he passed the nightstand to his closet, shoulders rolling as he selected his clothes. He already knew what he would be walking in to so he chose a black shirt and blue tie to go with the usual black three-piece suit, making sure the back of his vest was of a muted color.

Half an hour later, hair dried and slicked back; beard brushed, trimmed, and oiled; a fully dressed John stepped out of his front door to a world completely different to that he'd fallen asleep to.

The chill wind whipped at his coat tails as he sighed at the scene before him, the cloud of breath hurried away by the gust that took a flurry of snow past his porch.  _ Great. _ Winter had arrived overnight. There wasn't much snow on the ground yet, but the steady fall of large flakes and the pale grey clouds overhead threatened more. He'd have to organize to have his drive plowed if it continued. 

He was in no rush to head into work that morning, not with the majority of it being taken up by interviewing candidates for the paralegal job he'd opened between the endless stacks of paperwork that had accumulated in the time that David Proctor's health had declined. Instead, he took the chance to head towards the hangar that sat off to one side, a forlorn smile forming at the fact the black plane that sat inside would now be mothballed until spring. He had hoped to get her in the air before the first snow, but work had proven difficult. 

He stopped at one of the new fences he'd had installed along the short airstrip, propping himself up on his forearms as he took in the treeline that led off down into a couple of hundred acres of almost uninterrupted forest. He wasn't expecting to see anything through the barren limbed undergrowth and yet the feeling he was being watched lingered and caused the skin on the back of his neck to prickle.

So focused had he been on almost glaring out at the forest that the sound of his phone startled him back to reality. Levi's voice on the end, sounding frazzled, caused him to head to his truck. "I'm on my way Levi, just tell Mrs. Baker to wait and offer her something warm to drink. She's clearly distressed, try your best to calm her before I get there, if you can."

It was always the same after moons, yet for some reason, John had hoped sleepy little Stonebridge would be different. 

No such luck.

What small amount of traffic there was between the ranch and the town was moving slow but steady. The snow had been expected but was coming down at a pace that wasn't enough for the plows to have gone out yet, but enough to hide what was road and what was verge. On the trip of a few miles, there was a total of one car stranded down an embankment and a state trooper truck sat with a distressed woman. Suddenly, John found himself very grateful for the winters at Harvard and learning to drive in the snow.

The rest of the drive was as uneventful as it always was and he pulled into a spot behind Levi's white Jeep, gathering his belongings before stepping back out into the bitter cold, the frigid wind cutting through his silk shirt to bite at his collarbone.

He entered the office to the mixed smells of coffee, cocoa, and vanilla. And the soft sound of a woman weeping in the small waiting room just off the main reception desk.

_ It's going to be a long day. _

Levi's briefing was short as John settled into his office and pulled out his laptop. There wasn't really much that could be said, it was a cut and dry issue, that didn't make it easy. The next bit was the part of the job he hated.

The young woman that walked - or, rather, waddled was a better term, given her obvious late stage of pregnancy - in was a disheveled mess, her blotchy skin and ruined makeup telling a story of hours of crying. Days, if Levi's story was right. The faint metallic scent of blood that clung to her despite the clean clothes said it was.

Instinctively, John stood and rounded his desk, offering his arm to help her to the chair. "Mrs. Baker I am so sorry to have heard what happened to your husband." His voice was soft, sympathetic, gentle, but it set her off into another round of sobs anyway. He let his touch linger, thumb making soothing sweeps across the skin of her forearm. "Shh. It's okay, I'm going to help you as best I can, alright?"

He let her get the sobs out of her system, staying crouched beside her chair, his hand making slow circles on the hunched plain of her back to keep her grounded and calm. Then, when she'd finally slowed to a hiccup, he caught her eyes and gave her a reassuring smile. "Tell me what happened, Valerie, let me help you."

The story she told was one that he'd heard a dozen times over. They had been out to dinner, not realizing the moon, and were jumped on their walk back to their apartment. Her husband William had only been protecting his pregnant wife, pulled his sidearm and got a few shots off. He may have stopped the wolf, but not before he'd almost gotten his arm torn off. Now his insurance company was refusing to pay for the man still in hospital and their landlord was evicting them because he didn't want wolves on the property. 

They weren't the first couple that John had seen go through similar, and they certainly wouldn't be the last. And people wondered why most wolf bites went unreported.

The meeting was long and drawn out as all avenues were explored, phonecalls made, veiled threats given. The end result was the Bakers keeping their house (providing they look for somewhere else before the next moon) and the insurance company picking up at least some of the slack after John decided to poke holes in their contract and leave them exposed to serious litigation. 

Levi couldn't help the faint smirk when Valerie dragged John down into the best version of a bear hug she possibly could with the size of her belly on the way out. All John could do was give her an awkward pat on the back and wish her and her family well. "Being a wolf is not a death sentence. Love him as you normally would, because I guarantee his feelings towards you will be no different." 

"Do you think they're going to be okay?" Asked Levi after the woman left and a silence had fallen, pensive and taut.

John blinked at the door she'd walked out of, lost in thought until his friend spoke before he sighed and shook his head sadly. "They have the odds stacked against them." His expression turned grim as he stepped away from the front door, catching Levi's eye as he did so. "Few relationships can survive what they're going through."

Levi watched him walk back into his office without another word, an air of melancholy settling over the building. Today was going to be a long day indeed.


End file.
